


Purple Roses

by cruellae (tinkabelladk)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, f/f - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 23:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16229891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkabelladk/pseuds/cruellae
Summary: Eiko has forgiven Makoto for exposing her ex-boyfriend for a fraud. But something still isn't right between them. (Spoilers for Makoto's character quest)





	Purple Roses

Eiko’s life had pretty much returned to normal. No more butterflies in her stomach flapping wildly to get a midnight text from Tsukasa - _thinking of u princess -_ during a slow part of his shift. No more excitement, no more anxiety, no more holding tight to the notion that out there, among the vast bright lights of Tokyo, was someone who thought she, Eiko, was special.

She had made nice with Makoto, but sometimes she still felt great gusts of fury that left her empty and feeling foolish. It was easy for Makoto to look at the world with ruthless clarity. She had her group of weird friends who all really seemed to love her, and that boyfriend everybody whispered about in the halls. At first everyone talked about him with contempt—the juvenile delinquent, the convict—but now people murmured about how cool he was, how self-possessed. It was clear he cared a lot about Makoto, and not in the pretend way that Eiko’s ex-boyfriend had cared for her.

It was vindictive, and not really fair, but for once, just once, Eiko would like to see Makoto less than perfectly composed.

#

“Do you think he’s in Mementos?” Makoto asked, idly sprawled out on Akira’s floor, her schoolbooks spread on the dusty floorboards but mostly ignored.

“Who?” Ryuji asked, glancing over his shoulder at her. He was sitting in front of the TV, leaning the rickety wooden chair back and putting one foot up on the table, the controller suspended precariously in his lap while he reached for a can of soda on the ground.

“Tsukasa,” Makoto said. “Eiko’s ex-boyfriend.”

“Maybe,” Akira said. He was sitting at the desk, intently hunched over a set of tin scraps that were slowly becoming lockpicks, somehow. “You wanna make a request?”

“I don’t know his full name,” Makoto said. “But maybe we could go to Shinjuku and ask around.”

“Why not just ask Eiko?” Ryuji said, his eyes back on the TV screen, where pixelated aliens were attacking his character.

“Because she hates me,” Makoto said, and sighed. She folded her arms and rested her head on them, staring down at the very close floor.

“I thought you made up,” Akira said, which was partly true. Eiko had thanked Makoto for her intervention, and since then they’d been nothing but civil to each other, but something had changed. It felt like their friendship had broken, and Makoto didn’t know how to fix it. Just like how a distance had formed between herself and her sister, now she had pushed Eiko away too.

“Wait,” Ryuji said, “why does she—oh fuck!” He leaned back further in the chair, sagging dramatically as his onscreen character died in a graphic explosion of red pixels.

“Here,” Makoto said, getting up and taking the controller from him. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Ryuji muttered something under his breath, but scooted aside so Makoto could sit in the chair. Time had proven that she was in fact the superior player, at almost every game Akira had.

“So what did you do to make Eiko hate you?” Ryuji asked. “Last time I saw you together you were wearing each other’s jackets.”

“Oh,” Makoto said, flushing at the memory of Eiko in her trim purple jacket, the one she always thought of as prudish and awkward. But when Eiko put it on, it became a completely different garment. Against the creamy white skin of Eiko’s wrists, the long sleeves of the jacket had looked like flower petals opening on snow. 

“Eiko was dating a creep,” Akira said. “Makoto blew his cover. She was relentless. Like a detective on the trail of a serial killer.”

“Now she says she’s glad I did it,” Makoto said, as she ruthlessly slaughtered the rush of aliens running down the hallway towards her. “but things are different between us now. It doesn’t feel like we’re friends anymore.”

“Maybe she just needs time,” Akira said.

“Maybe.” Makoto gunned down the last alien and sighed, handing the controller back to Ryuji.

“The fuck?” he muttered, taking her place on the chair. “Another high score?”

She ignored him, sitting on the bed beside Akira. She leaned her head on Akira’s shoulder and reached past him to run her palm over Morgana’s fur. He was warm and soft beneath her hand, fast asleep.

Sometimes she wished Akira was her real boyfriend, and it wasn’t just some charade they’d made up for the investigation. Not because she was attracted to him—she wasn’t—but it would be nice to have someone who thought that out of all the souls in the city, she was special.

 _Tsukasa thinks I_ _’m special,_ Eiko had said, spitting the words at Makoto as they argued. _He_ _’s the only one who does._

Makoto had barely heard it then; she’d been thinking only of Tsukasa’s long, greasy masculine hands and where he might have put them on Eiko’s beautiful skin, and even now the thought filled her with a dark, stinging anger.

“I think Eiko is mad because Tsukasa made her feel special,” Makoto said, slowly, only realizing it as she spoke. “Now she doesn’t have anyone. Her parents are really distant and critical. I think she just wanted someone to love her. I took that away. She understands, but I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

Akira hummed thoughtfully. “You think she’s special, don’t you? I mean, outside of the Thieves, isn’t she your best friend?”

“Yeah,” Makoto said, raising her head to look at him as an idea began to take shape in her mind. “She is.”

#

There was a note in Eiko’s locker. Not _on_ her locker, but _in_ it. And as much as she hated the idea that someone could get into her locker, she was a little glad it hadn’t just been posted on the outside, because it was a calling card. Red and black, just like the ones the Phantom Thieves left for Kamoshida.

_Madame Eiko_

_The Beautiful Poet and Soulful Arranger of Flowers_

_I know how little you think of yourself, and that you always put others first, even when it_ _’s really hard. This is why I have decided to steal your negative thoughts and make you aware of your own beauty with your own eyes. This will be done without fail, so I hope that you are ready to know how special you are._

_Sincerely,_

_Your best friend forever_

Eiko quickly tucked the note into her binder, careful not to damage it. She spent most of first period stealing glances at it, brushing her fingers over the hand drawn logo that looked exactly like the Phantom Thieves’ one. She pondered the signature. She had a lot of friends, but none of them were close. None except Makoto. In the month or two before she started dating Tsukasa, she had become close to Makoto in a way she’d never bonded with anyone before.

She’d known Makoto much longer than that, though. They’d been in the same class since they were first years together, and she’d always stolen glances at the steely maiden when she could get away with it. Makoto was so stern, so utterly self possessed, that she’d been hard to get to know. She seemed determined to be an island, afraid to rely even the slightest bit on anyone other than herself. But just this year, Makoto had started to open up, if only to Eiko and probably her boyfriend Akira too. She revealed a wicked sense of humor and a deeply caring heart.

If this was from Makoto, well, Eiko didn’t know what to make of that. But it probably wasn’t. Such an intimate gesture was utterly unlike her.

Eiko found herself oddly disappointed at the thought.

#

When the school bell rang, Eiko found Makoto waiting in the student council room as usual. She was holding a large bouquet of purple roses. The dyed roses were a deep royal purple, and it was more gaudy than beautiful, but Eiko still couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy.

“Those are nice,” she said. “Are they from Akira?” Eiko was a little surprised that the boy who took the night shift at the flower shop where she worked afternoons would pick such an ugly bouquet.

Makoto looked confused for a moment, then she shook her head. “No. Actually, these are for you. From…from me. Akira wanted to help me pick them but I told him I was totally capable of choosing flowers on my own.”

It sounded almost like Makoto was babbling, like she was totally losing her cool. It was strange, and surprisingly endearing. Eiko took the flowers with a smile, wondering how she could have ever thought them ugly. She tilted her head down to breathe in the rose fragrance, and when she looked up, Makoto had a gentle, pleased smile on her face.

“Do you want to…do you want to get crepes?” Makoto asked. “My treat.”

“I got this calling card,” Eiko said, watching Makoto’s face carefully. “In my locker. Like the one the Phantom Thieves send.”

“I guess someone wants to…steal your heart,” Makoto said, blushing, tilting her head away from Eiko.

Eiko stood there for a moment, the scent of roses in the air and Makoto watching her anxiously, barely breathing, her cheeks flushed red. A few months ago, before Tsukasa, she wouldn’t have been able to imagine anything more wonderful than Makoto confessing her feelings with flowers and a beautiful note. But now…

“What about your boyfriend?” Eiko asked.

Makoto tilted her head, frowning, then straightened. “Oh. You mean Akira? He’s not really my boyfriend. He was just pretending to be so that we could double date, and I could get to know Tsukasa.”

“You lied to me,” Eiko said, taking a step back, the sweetness gone sour. “You tricked me.”

“I did it because I knew he was going to hurt you, badly, and I wanted to stop him,” Makoto protested. And then she stopped, and bowed her head. “But that’s not the only reason. I did it because I was jealous. I hated him, because he got to be with you and he didn’t even see or care what a beautiful, precious person you are. So I lied and I tricked you because when you started dating him I knew I’d lose you to him, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Makoto’s voice was rough, and her eyes shimmered with tears. “I know I took him from you, and I know that he was important to you. You’ll probably never look at me the way you looked at him, but I at least wanted you to know that there’s someone who thinks you’re the most important person in the world.”

Eiko’s heart ached with fondness. She never thought she’d see Makoto lose her composure like this, and all because she cared so much.

“I wish you’d told me this months ago,” she said, stepping closer. “You could have saved us both a lot of trouble.”

Makoto laughed, softly. Light collected in her dark eyes like distant stars, and Eiko wanted to dive in after them. She leaned close and kissed her best friend, gently. Makoto was all softness, a contrast to her hard, unyielding personality. It felt like her body was melting into Eiko’s, her hands perched shyly on Eiko’s waist. She was an inexperienced kisser, but a fast learner, and in their heady embrace time moved slow and sweet despite the racing of Eiko’s heart. While Tsukasa had sometimes made Eiko feel like she was flying, Makoto made her feel like, for the first time in her life, she was standing on solid ground.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Last year I wrote [the book of my heart](https://www.amazon.com/Dark-City-Sarah-Kay-Moll-ebook/dp/B07FP4M6BH).


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